


Take Your Time

by nahemaraxe (zephyrina)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Bodyguard, Exhibitionism, Fantasy Sex, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:57:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4194612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zephyrina/pseuds/nahemaraxe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt - Bodyguard!AU. Dean has become too cocky lately. His boss assigns him to a billionaire named Gabriel, who has a nasty habit of not listening. He's also too much Dean's type. Dean is so screwed, but he has a job to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Your Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meinposhbastard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinposhbastard/gifts).



The first thing Whatshisname tells Gabriel is, “Hey, so you’re one of the assholes who seized the water wells, right?” and boy, doesn’t he sound smug. As if being a smartass would get him anything but a bullet in the kneecaps. Or a few somewhere else. Gabriel can be pretty creative when he wants to.

Problem is, Cain and his gang want to roast up the Novaks like turkeys, Whatshisname is the third (fourth?) bodyguard Zachariah sent his way and Mike told him this one had better last longer than a couple of weeks. _Unharmed and psychologically sound, Gabe._

So, the first thing Gabriel tells Whatshisname is not a dramatic _‘Hasta la vista, baby’_ , followed by the crack of his gun, but a way tamer, way lamer, “Cute death wish, kiddo.” 

Lack of Hollywood flare notwithstanding, it’s still an impressive show of self-restraint, and if Whatshisname had the common sense of a mosquito, he’d wipe that grin off his face and start talking job. But of course - of course - that’s asking for too much, because Whatshisname just grins harder.

“I heard you bang your brother,” he says, all raised eyebrow and fuck-you-I’m-hilarious look. “Everybody agrees on that, but we can’t figure out which one it is. You’ve got too many siblings, dude.”

Gabriel’s index twitches on empty air. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“Well, I bet half an apple and ten iron nails on Raphael,” Whatshisname goes on. “So tell me, am I right?”

“You’re still breathing only because I made a promise,” Gabriel says. He’s talking in a low tone and for some reason, he feels his own lips stretching, corners pointing upward. He’s not sure what he’s doing there. Is that an homicidal rictus or is he appreciating the kid’s guts? Who knows. He flaps a hand in the air.

“Kiss your stuff goodbye anyway. Raph’s sucking dick, all right; just not my dick,” he says and fuck yes, the way Whatshisname winces makes it so worth it.

They’ll get along splendidly.

+

Except that they don’t. 

Five days in, and Gabriel’s ready to kick Whatshisname into a well and swear it was an accident. _‘He slipped. You got me a clumsy one, Mike,_ he’d say, and _‘Luce and I can share. His is big enough,’_ he’d say, and that part would be nothing but God’s honest truth. Luce’s bodyguard _is_ huge. On top of it, the guy has a nice ass and keeps his trap shut, while Whatshisname can only flaunt the nice ass.

And uh, the pretty face. Gabriel’s not blind: Whatshisname is easy on the eye, and if things were different, if Whatshisname didn’t get on Gabriel’s nerves every five minutes, he’d fuck him stupid. Kid would look hot as hell all spread out on the car hood, his hole slick with lube and his dick spilling come on his own stomach. Waiting. Wanting. Gabriel would pick the right time for it, too - that hour just after dawn, while the heat outside would still be tolerable and they wouldn’t need protective clothes. With the sun low on the horizon, the wasteland around them could pass for a desert, and they’d be free to enjoy each other, the friction and the open-mouthed kisses and the dig-bruise-dig of fingers pressing into flesh. 

So many fun thing could happen if only Whatshisname weren’t a whiny, dumb son of a bitch. 

Life’s unfair. 

\+ 

(Sometimes, Gabriel’s tempted to just grab Whatshisname and fuck him stupid anyway. And sometimes— yeah, sometimes he’s rather sure Whatshisname would like to do the same. Which is half interesting and half as nice as swallowing nails) 

\+ 

Someone tries to do Gabriel in at the Center. 

The Center is just a pompous name for a handful of houses held together with spit and a prayer, really. Under normal circumstances, Gabriel wouldn’t let a stray dog stay there, let alone people with small kids; the current circumstances are anything but normal though, so the nine families who squat in those houses are just happy to have a roof above their heads. Besides, they all work for the Novaks. It should be a safe place, considering. 

The bullet that misses his head by a couple inches (and it misses only because Whatshisname shoves him down) begs to differ. Gabriel does get a mouthful of sand and a few bruises from having 175 pounds of Whatshisname dropped on top of him, but no additional ventilation holes. For that, he’s grateful. 

For the _‘tee-hee, who saved your life? Oh yeah, me’_ grin plastered on Whatshisname’s face? Not so much. 

\+ 

Whatshisname’s got a real name, of course. It’s Dan. Dean. Don. Something that starts with ‘D’ and ends with ‘I don’t really care’, at least as far as Gabriel’s concerned. 

“Whatshisname’s better,” he tells Luce that one time after dinner. “Adds character, you know?” 

“Oh, I’m sure,” Luce says. “I didn’t think you could name bodyguards, though. Mine’s still a Sam.” 

He nods to the guy in question, who’s standing next to Whatshisname. They’re both close to the door, shifting their weights and looking uncomfortable as hell. Which may or may not be related to the fact that Luce has been sticking his hands down Gabriel’s pants for the past ten minutes. 

“Whatever. You never— oh fuckfuck _fuck_ — never had much imagination, bro,” Gabriel says. His voice wavers a little, but he manages to shoot Whatshisname a grin - _‘told ya it wasn’t Raph’_ \- before redirecting his attention to the important bits. 

Luce. Luce rubbing a finger on the slit of his dick, Luce’s hand cupping his ass cheek and Luce’s own dick nudging into his side, Luce licking a stripe down his neck and pressing him against the wall and— 

“You’re still dressed,” Luce says, his voice low and urgent. “Off with ‘em.” 

Later on, while Gabriel’s riding him and he’s _closeclosesoclose_ , he lets his gaze wander toward Whatshisname. Kid’s tenting his own pants nicely enough, and it’s the combined effect of that and Lucifer’s thrusts ( _deepdeepdeeper, yeah, right there_ ) that gets Gabriel off. 

Holy voyeuristic tendencies, Novak. 

\+ 

Weeks blend into one another. 

Gabriel’s not sure when he starts noticing it, but he thinks it’s between the bullet he dodged at the Center and the last time he and Luce fucked with an audience. 

The thing is, he knows the fifty gallons per month he pays Zachariah for Whatshisname’s services aren’t enough. Whatshisname has to give some to Zachariah himself, and that means the kid’s got very little to drink. Still, some days Whatshisface looks like he’s about to keel over, and that’s not right. 

They’re heading back home, cramped up in the car with the AC blasted on max, when Gabriel pokes Whatshisname in the shoulder. 

“Hey.” 

Whatshisname doesn’t look away from the road. “What?” he asks. 

“Here. Take this,” Gabriel says, dropping a canteen into Whatshisname’s lap. “Clean water, purified and all. You don’t have to worry about contaminants or radiations or anything. It’s safe.” 

“Don’t need—” 

“Sure thing. That’s why you’re twenty shades of white right now.” Gabriel turns in his seat and glares at Whatshisname. “I know you don’t get paid enough.” 

The car hits a pothole, swerves. Whatshisname cusses under his breath. “It’s not that,” he says once the car is back on track again. “Nobody gets enough, except for you rich assholes. I share my rations with Sam, okay? He doesn’t want it, but he’s my brother.” 

The _‘I do what I gotta do’_ goes unspoken, but Gabriel hears it anyway; it reminds him of his own brothers. He groans. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’ll get you more, all right? For you both, just spare me the martyr act.” 

“And why’s that?” 

“Because the dehydration look doesn’t suit you,” Gabriel says. “And because you stink. From now on, you’ll take actual showers with actual water. No more washing up with sand.” 

Whatshisname opens his mouth ( _to question Gabriel’s sanity, to thank him, to laugh at him and tell him he doesn’t need charity, no sir_ ), but Gabriel shakes his head. “Shut up. Whatever it is, I don’t wanna hear it. Keep driving.” 

\+ 

So, Whatshisname is growing on him. Despite the attitude and the nice ass and the _fucking attitude_ , he’s growing on him. 

Sue him. 

\+ 

“Wait. _Wait._ ” 

Whatshisname sounds serious enough to stop what Gabriel’s doing, but not enough to prevent him from rolling his eyes. He looks up, his eyebrow raised. 

“This better be good, kiddo.” 

“Yeah, um, about that—” 

The grip on Gabriel’s shoulders tightens a fraction. From his vantage point, Gabriel has a great view of Whatshisname’s dick straining against the zipper, but he can’t see Whatshisname’s face worth a damn, just the side of Whatshisname’s jaw and the bottom lip. Still, he can tell Whatshisname is flushing. Uh. 

“Aren’t you… um, you broke up or something?” Whatshisname scratches the back of his neck. ‘Cause I placed another bet and I swear—” 

Gabriel laughs a little. “Luce and I, we’re not exclusive. Not that it’s any of your business,” he says. “Now shut up.” He licks his lips and presses the heel of his hand against Whatshisname’s dick. “Places to see, things to blow.” 

\+ 

The last thing Whatshisname tells Gabriel is a cliche, “Stay down!” 

The last thing Gabriel tells Whatshisname is, “You don’t do this to me, you hear? You don’t,” which is even more of a cliche and makes him sound like a bad Victorian novel. He can’t help it though. He likes Whatshisname. In a roundabout way, sure, and he wouldn’t think twice in leaving him behind if he had to choose between Whatshisname and, uh, a couple of his brothers, but. _But._

It doesn’t matter. Because right now, he’s not choosing. 

“Fuck you, asshole,” Gabriel grits out. “Keep breathing. _Keep breathing_.” 

\+ 

The first thing Gabriel tells Dean is, “You sorry son of a bitch, that was my good shirt,” because his bedside manners suck and he’s still _angrypanickedscared_. 

_(But see, I learned your name)_

The first thing Dean tells Gabriel is a raspy, “‘M glad you’re alive, fucker,” but he’s smiling a tiny, tiny smile, his eyes are bright, and so it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. 

**Author's Note:**

> I managed to follow your prompt, sort of? I hope you don't mind the additional pairing, hon. I had this vague post-apocalyptic setting in mind - basically, the world is a wasteland, the sun burns too hot, and the water is scarce enough to be used as currency - so I ran with it. 
> 
> Fills for the h/c bingo, 'bodyguards'
> 
> Many thanks to consultingcas for the last minute beta <3


End file.
